Confessions of a lost survivor...

The thing about being a survivor is that the stories are too graphic to share most of the times. Aristotle put it aptly, "Those who excel in virtue have the best right of all to rebel, but then they are of all men the least inclined to do so".

Goes without saying, I WILL deny all that follows, or maybe some of it.

• The loss of innocence is when you stop believing in people... Now I believe in the wrong people...
• Experiences make you stronger... There are no bad experiences...
• If you haven't traveled alone in life, you are yet to feel the joy that solitude brings...
• The sense of peace I get in traveling is yet to be rivaled or even matched...
• The truth is worth risking everything...
• To a writer, writing is worth risking everything…
• Context continues to elude most... thats how its rightly done...
• Money is never important… Take that Friday flight to meet someone even if it leaves you broke…
• Being consistently broke is exciting… You never have to worry about lending money
• Nothing beats the excitement that spontaneity brings…
• Scars are beautiful... they remind one of what they've survived...
• There are situations where your own family may stand against you... Everyone is fallible...
• Don't judge people... This will, ofcourse, not stop them from judging you... Deal with it...
• Believe in the art of moving on
• Indifference can show you a side of yourself you may grow to dislike… Indifference is your best bet…
• Learning how to care about the right things and people is an even better bet
• Games are to be played with people of the same caliber... the rest can be bullied
• Respect for all people... everyone is fighting their battles
• Some people are worth fighting battles for, especially with yourself...
• The worst form of lie is the one we tell ourselves
• Everybody lies...

Love note by a non-believer...

The monks laughed in my direction...

Turning to look at the noises,

I could smell the wet roses...

Raindrops kissing my feet as I ran...

Up to the coffee shop,

A wet book in my hand,

I sat down to the brewing cup...

A crooked smile on my lips.

Mornings spent wrapped in the heat,

And the evenings worn off by walks,

As the night started to sneak upon me,

I would look to the moon that you look upon.

The corner lamp shone through the misty window...

Darkness enveloping me in a warm embrace,

Nightmares of unfinished business,

Cuddling amongst insomnia and nightmares...

Between love and lust lies this poet...

On thin lines...

Indifferent to taking sides,

Too curious to make a choice...

Merry Go Round...

Lets move to a place with no roads,
Where we can run in circles,
And we wouldn’t even know about it…

Where the people have no names,
‘Cos they don’t talk to anyone,
And the masks never come off…

Where the chores are divided perfectly,
Left to everyone’s pleasing,
And people walk with a constant smile…

Where the rain never stops,
Washing away everyday’s memories,
And each day is a new day…

Where every night toasts to the morning,
With a haze of smoke around,
And nothing else matters…

Where souls never meet,
Brushing past one another for eternity,
And no one remembers tomorrow…

Where you and I meet for the first time,
Fall in love with each other for a day,
And we forget it tomorrow,
Until we meet again...